Future
by nocturnal08
Summary: The hunt never ends for Sam and Dean. A vision draws Sam back to his brother's side, where he is needed the most. The next generation of Winchesters makes an appearance. SamOC DeanCassie Notice the jump in rating. A bit AU after season 1.
1. Peace of Mind

Disclaimer: Winchester universe not mine, but I like to dabble

Author's Note: This is my first fic

Chapter 1, Peace of Mind

Sam woke with a start, his breath coming in gasps. He blinked the vision from his eyes and made his eyes focus on the familiar reality of the dark room. Like always, the quiet of his home calmed him. He felt Grace's concern radiating from the opposite side of the bed and turned to offer what reassurance he could muster, taking refuge in his wife's unfaltering gaze. Grace was an empath, able to sense and project feelings and Sam felt her gentle support steady him as he reeled from the powerful vision.

"Oh, God," Sam whispered in dismay.

"What was it?" Grace asked, her voice calm. Her question helped to focus Sam and draw out the details of his vision.

"Cassie," Sam managed. "She's hurt, something… attacked them in the apartment." After a moment he amended "is going to attack them."

Sam threw himself from the bed. The clock read 4:52 AM, which meant that it would be almost six in New York, where Cassie lived with his six year old niece and the attack in the vision had occurred in the early morning, right after dawn. Sam grabbed his cell from the charger on his dresser and put through the call.

The phone rang four times before Cassie picked up. "Hello," she said in an irritated voice.

"Cassie, it's Sam," he said, letting out the breath he had been holding. "You and Ellie need to get out of the apartment, NOW."

"You had a vision?" Cassie's voice turned taut with fear. Though she and Dean still had not found a way to balance his hunting with her journalism career, their steamy relationship had exposed her to more than her fair share of supernatural monsters. When Cassie's mother had passed away, Cassie had moved to New York and now she edited a small news magazine. Things with Dean continued to defy definition, even after (or maybe especially after) the birth of their beloved daughter Rosemary Ellen Winchester, Ellie for short.

"Yes. I think whatever it is will come in the next couple of hours. You need to get out of there as soon as you can." Sam could tell from her unsteady breathing that she was starting to panic and coached her through as best he could. "If you have any iron or salt, take it with you, otherwise just get Ellie and go. Keep to the lighted areas as much as you can."

"Oh God, oh God," Cassie muttered as Sam heard her start to move. "Should I call the police?" she asked Sam.

"Only as a last resort, Cassie. They rarely help."

"Okay… okay." Cassie replied, her voice sounding a little more resolved.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Sam was dialing again. He simultaneously pulled up flight information on his laptop and dialed his brother. Last Sam had heard Dean and John had been working a string of suspicious suicides at a private school outside of Boston. Hopefully they had just about finished by now, Sam prayed as the phone rang.

"Hey," said Dean in a sleepy voice. "This better be good, Sammy, 'cause the sun is definitely, _definitely _not up." The bantering tone disappeared when Sam told him about the vision.

After confirming that Cassie was getting the hell out of the apartment with his daughter, Dean switched into hunting mode. "Any thoughts on what this son of a bitch is? What it wants?"

"I'm not completely sure, but because of the way the thing was moving and the… there was this smell like rotting flesh. I think it's a zombie,"

"Great, so somebody's animating it? Like a necromancer or something?"

"I don't know, Dean. I promise you that we will figure it out. I'm taking the next flight out. I'll call as soon as I know anything."

"Right. We'll be there as soon as we can," Dean replied.

"Alright. Give me a call when you're on the road and Dean... watch yourself."

"You too," Dean said shortly before cutting the line.

Grace reappeared with a steaming cup of coffee earning a grateful smile from her husband. She kissed his head to indicate her understanding and set about packing his overnight bag while Sam dialed Cassie back. Relieved to hear that she was on her way out the door, Sam gave her the information for the rendezvous and let her know that he would be out there by that afternoon.

Letting out a sigh, Sam downed the coffee and headed down to the basement where he could pack his weapons kit. That was going to be a bitch to get through security, but he wasn't going into a hunt unprepared. As he wracked his brain trying to think of which books from his considerable library might be helpful, he felt chilled by more than just the cold floor beneath his bare feet. He prayed that they wouldn't arrive too late. Since the night that the Winchesters, backed by more than a dozen kids with talents like Sam and Grace, had banished the Demon back to hell, Sam had gradually rebuilt around the devestation of losing Jessica. Grace, who had decided to go back to school and study psychology after the battle, helped Sam to accept his abilities and together they made a carved out a niche for their unique family. Finishing law school, partly because he was a stubborn bastard and partly in Jessica's memory, Sam now had a private practice in the small town in Colorado. However, despite what his father and brother might say in a pique of anger or frustration, Sam had never ignored a vision. Not since Jessica. At times the terrible responsiblity of his abilites threatened to crush him.

When there was nothing left for Sam to do but call the office and as Grace hopped in the shower, Sam went to check on the kids. It was a quarter till five and the boys were still sleeping soundly. John, who was five, lay sprawled across his Winnie the Pooh sheets and Riley, who had just made the transition to a full sized twin bed was curled up in a corner with his security blanket, thumb in mouth. Sam tenderly picked up the "Dean-bear" that had been flung from Johnny's bed during the night. The ragged-looking thing had rarely left the kid's side since his beloved uncle Dean had given it to him for his first birthday.

Gently smoothing the blankets and returning the bear to his son's side, Sam checked the cat's eyes shells and dream catchers which guarded the boys' room. The house had been built upon hallowed ground, on the site of an old church which had been blissfully free of supernatural haunting and violent death and all entrances were warded against evil. Still, the vision had put Sam on edge so he took the box of rock salt from the dresser and poured a steady line across the windowsill.

Looking out the window, Sam's sharp eyes picked out the familiar forms of the play structure and the sandbox in the backyard and beyond that forested area that bordered the sloping yard on the south. Grace in particular preferred the buffer zone provided by living in the country. The press of strangers and their emotions were unsettling. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Sam willed his tense muscles to relax slightly.

Hearing Jordan, the baby, fussing in the nursery, Sam slipped from the boys' room to comfort his youngest son. Grace came in as he was fastening the dry diaper and they conferred in low voices over the logistics of the hunt.

An hour later he was out the door. Grace watched him dump his stuff in the car. It was still predawn and Sam's faced was masked in shadow. She could feel his teaming emotions barely contained beneath the surface of his thoughts. Fear, not for himself but for Cassie and Ellie and Dean. Rage against the evil that defiled the world that Sam loved. Guilt, always present, for Jessica and Mary and all the others. Determination and courage; he would not stand by, he would not give in. Grace ached with the familiar pain that was forever associated with the supernatural for Sam. Since the first moment that she had seen the tall, lanky boy and his bright, beautiful soul, she had loved him. They were meant to be together, of that much they were both certain. She still remembered the first time he had looked at her with those soul wrenching eyes. The shock of his emotions, which penetrated her defenses so easily had thrown her and they had simply stared at each other. It was the moment that Sam had a vision that was for the first time of hope, not darkness and despair. He saw their life together and shook with unabashed thankfulness. Grace had clung to Sam as her soulmate and her lover. Their seven years of marriage had been happy, despite the shadows that they both knew were out there and the terrible visions that shattered the nights.

When he turned back to her and tenderly kissed her good-bye, Grace fanned the flicker of love that always blazed strongly between them. It brought a smile to Sam's tense face. She looked into his eyes and promised with heart and soul that she would keep their children safe, would be careful and that home would always be there for him when the hunt was over.

Sam wrenched himself away, got in his car and drove into the night.


	2. Cityscape

Chapter 2, Cityscape

Dean hated driving in the city. And he hated driving alone—even though leaving John behind to finish the Boston job meant that he was at liberty to blast whatever music suited his fancy. Unfortunately even the familiar strains of Metallica weren't calming him down. Not with frickin' five lanes of crazy ass drivers in his way.

He had checked in via phone with Sam and Cassie an hour ago. Seems whatever it was Sam had seen in his vision broke into the apartment while Cassie and Ellie were staying at a hotel several blocks away, torn up the place pretty good. Sam was waiting for him to get in before they went to investigate. Fortunately the undead were not too crazy about sunlight, so the thing probably hadn't gotten too far after the attack… unless it took to the sewers, of course, Dean mused. Knowing his girls were safe (he smirked to himself as he included Sam in the category of "his girls") made Dean's anxiety turn to white hot anger. _No body_ messed with his family. Whatever the hell it was, it was going down.

Dean swore as a taxi cut him off and slammed on the brakes to avoid a collision. He couldn't believe that Cassie actually liked it here. He had only been in the city for half ad hour and he was already jumping out of his skin. He glowered at a biker who cut perilously close to his right side. Don't even _think_ about scratching my car, Dean muttered.

Despite his natural dislike for the city, this area of town was familiar to him and he navigated impatiently towards the apartment he shared with Cassie whenever he was in this part of the country and a lull in the hunting business allowed a certain amount of extended shore leave.


	3. Getting it together

Chapter 3, Getting it Together

After a preliminary visual scan of the street below Cassie's apartment, Dean pulled into the parking lot of the hotel where Sam and Cassie were staying and found his way into the  
building. Sam had rented two connected rooms on the third floor. As soon as he knocked, Ellie threw open the door and, seeing her dad, flung her arms around him.

"Daddy!" She grinned.

Sam, who was sitting at the desk with his laptop open in front of him, several pages of notes on his right, looked up startled.

"Ellie." Sam said, his voice disapproving. "What did I say about opening the door to suspicious looking drifters?" He cracked a smile when Dean threw him a look.

"Nice to see you too, Sam," Dean said dryly, scooping up his daughter and giving her a dark curls a kiss.

"But, it's Dad." Ellie protested, her uncle's sarcasm lost on her.

"But you didn't know that," Dean chided seriously. He set the six year old on the bed and looked her in the eyes. "From now on, only Uncle Sam, me or mom answers the door. Got it?"

Ellie nodded unhappily.

"Ellie," Dean's firm voice prompted.

"Yes, dad." Ellie conceded with a sigh, before flopping gustily onto the bedspread.

Dean looked ruefully at Sam, before dumping his bag in the closet. Sam responded with tacit sympathy (he had a five year old himself). Ellie had been cooped up all day in the hotel room and she was starting to bounce off the walls. The only thing she had to play with was the hotel stationary because when fleeing for your life, toys and puzzles were hardly on the top priority list.

"Where's Cassie?" Dean asked.

"Mom had to go to work." Ellie supplied, jumping up from the bed. "Look, Dad, I made you a picture!"

"That's great, sweetie." Dean replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He glanced over at Sam's notes and helped himself to some coffee. "So, where do we store the squirt while we do our thing?" Dean inquired.

"But Daaad" Ellie whined, apparently unaware that "Dad" was a one syllable word, "I wanna go with you." The brother's ignored the outburst.

"Well, as soon as you _shave_," Sam said pointedly, "we'll drop Ellie off at daycare and check out the apartment. You're looking a little shady there." Dean had obviously headed out without much regard for appearances, 'cause his shirt looked like he had slept in it and there was definitely stubble on his face. "I think Dad already has the disheveled, broody stranger with a past look covered, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam, but swiped one of the disposable razors from his brother's toiletry kit and made fun of his shaving gel (helping himself to a healthy dollop) while he shaved.

"Oh, and I'm sure you usually just dry shave with your hunting knife" Sam teased back, going back to his research.

"That's roight, mate." Dean said in his best Crocodile Dundee impression. Dean winked at Ellie as she came in to watch. She giggled as he planted a glob of shaving cream on her nose with his thumb.

"So, I checked… or I should say _Officer O'Reilly_ checked the local morgues for any corpses that may have gone MIA, but nobody's talking. We may want to check the one of 82nd tonight, if we don't pick up any leads. There have been a string of robberies in this neighborhood that may have something to do with whatever it was. Obviously, we'll know more once we actually check out the apartment," Sam called from the bedroom.

"Sounds good," Dean said with a grin as he emerged from the bathroom and threw on a clean shirt.


	4. The Apartment

Chapter 4, The Apartment

After Ellie had been safely deposited at daycare with minimum resistance (Sam had managed to convince her that she would have more fun with the lego castle than spending a boring afternoon with her uncle and father, something that Dean had been teasing him about mercilessly since they had returned to the car), the brothers were able to revert to full hunter mode.

They didn't have to come up with much of a cover story, seeing as Dean was known at least by reputation in the building. Mrs. Leary, who sometimes watched Ellie when Cassie was out, hadn't heard anything suspicious from her apartment down the hall. That wasn't too surprising since she was more than partially deaf. The couple that lived across the hall hadn't been home. The brothers endured many curious and suspicious glances before giving up on finding any witnesses.

"Friendly," Sam snorted as the fourth door slammed in their faces.

"Yeah, it's a great neighborhood." Dean agreed with equal sarcasm.

Hoping for a lead, the two turned their attention to the wreckage of the apartment. The door had been forced open and the place was completely torn apart. Sam and Dean cautiously entered. Their expert eyes scanned the two-bedroom apartment, reading the story the creature had written in the smashed furniture and strewn belongings. Dean seethed at the torn mattress and shattered tea set in his daughter's room. Sam ran the EMF and the thermal scan, but there wasn't much to go on, a few residual beeps, but no strong readings.

"So, you're the psychic," Dean demanded. "How's if feeling?"

Sam didn't bother to correct his brother. Though he had come to terms with his abilities and honed his skills considerably, there were no pin point reference points to go on. Dean knew that better than anyone.

"Well, I'd say it was looking for something," Sam commented dryly.

"Ya think?" was Dean's sarcastic reply as they moved to the kitchen where all the cupboards had been ripped open, the cereal boxes and shards of dishes scattered across the floor.

Cassie's bedroom was in a similar state, with the dresser and its contents in pieces and the bedding thrown from the bed. Sam resisted the urge to make a dirty joke. Once you're over thirty, these things tend to lose their appeal.

"Yo, Sam, check it out." Dean called. Sam glanced up to see his brother holding up some black lingerie strewn casually to the side. "Smokin'" Dean mouthed with a grin. Sam glared.

"So whoever or whatever it was, they were either after something… or someone in the apartment," Sam prompted, deciding to ignore his brother's juvenile behavior " Can you think of anything here that might tempt a necromancer, like a charm or some voodoo or anything?"

"Well, there is that obsidian power source Cassie and I keep around just for kicks," Dean replied, again with the sarcasm. "What kind of parent do you think I am?"

When Sam's glare sharpened, Dean relented "There's just a few herbs I brought for Cassie last time I was in town, the normal protection crystals in Ellie's room, maybe something in that pendent I gave Cassie last Christmas—we're going to have to get her in her to see if anything is missing."

"And take care of the police inquiries and file the insurance claims," Sam added. "Unless you wanted to handle those, my dearly departed brother."

"Right," Dean said with a wink, "I wish that excuse worked as well for taking out the garbage as it does for avoiding my bureaucratic responsibilities."

"I knew it was just a tax evasion scheme," Sam said, grinning.

"Sam, over here." Dean called as he circled over to the window. Both panes had been shattered from the inside. The boys looked down at the fire escape which had apparently been the creature's mode of escape.

Levering himself gracefully through the empty pane, Dean examined the clumsy footprints left in the crushed glass.

"It's barefoot," Sam commented.

"Yep," Dean grunted. "And look, it's still bleeding" he said, pointing to the pink-tinged glass.

"Must be recently dead." Sam confirmed.

"We still thinking zombie?" Dean asked.

"I guess," Sam replied, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, there are still a lot of missing pieces. We need to figure out what it was looking for. I think we better check into those other burglaries."

Dean nodded. "And the morgues. I want to stop this guy before anyone gets hurt."

Sam sighed, signaling his agreement. His eyes scanned the alley below the fire escape. "The sun was rising in my vision. He wouldn't have had much time to get to cover. What do you think, the subway?"

As he said it, Sam staggered forward a little, catching himself on the window pane and cutting his hand on the broken glass. He didn't see to notice as his other hand went to his temple.

_His vision darkened as if a cloud had passed over the sun. He saw a flash of a dark hand, a woman screaming, she was pressed against a wall. There was a poster behind her head, some community play. The hand reached out. The thing broke her neck. She slumped to the floor, her dead eyes gleaming blankly. The zombie fumbled for something. Its hands closed around a silver amulet, snapped the chain that held it around her neck. "Mine" hissed a voice._

"Sam." Dean's voice was harsh with concern, though he knew that his brother was in the throes of a vision. Sam blinked away the pain and refocused on his borther's voice.

"Definitely the subway," Sam said grimly as he allowed Dean to bandage his hand.

TBC


	5. Lock and Load

Chapter 5, Lock and Load

There wasn't too much time to lose, it was already late afternoon. Sam downed a couple of pain killers, cursing himself for injuring his hand is such a stupid way. _Note to self: try not to use broken glass to cushion your fall next time, genius._ Glancing nervously at the sun, gleaming low in the sky, Sam found himself wishing for more advanced warning than his visions usually allowed. The violence of the vision caused the searing pain to lance through his head and he couldn't shake the woman's panicked expression from his thoughts.

It was the other clues from the vision, however, that Sam knew were more important. With his good hand, Sam sketched out what he could remember about the shape of the amulet. There were some sort of runes etched in the outer circle, they looked Celtic in origin. Sam wished he had though to bring some of his reference books, particularly one that had proved useful when Dean was dealing with a swarm of malevolent sprites in Ohio last fall. He seemed to remember some extensive discussion of Irish mythology, which might be useful here.

He could run an internet search later, but he found most of those sources highly unreliable. Since Sam had "settled down" in Colorado, he had devoted much of his free time to cataloging the journals of hunters like Elkins, his father, Jim Murphy and Caleb. It was fascinating, if at some points frustrating and heart wrenching work. Sam was determined to make the sacrifices of these brave men meaningful. Cross referencing the entries with his own research, Sam was gradually compiling an encyclopedic tome of the supernatural phenomena of North America. His library, much of which was inherited from Pastor Jim, now took up more than half of the considerable basement at the Winchester Manor (as the family jokingly referred to the massive house Sam and Grace now occupied with their brood of children). He also had a training room set up down there, a corner delegated for laundry and a guest bedroom and bath where John liked to stay when he visited the family. Sam had spent many late nights working out the puzzles his father, brother and various other family friends would pose. He was in his element there, digging up the archaic references, amending exorcism rituals, researching the almost forgotten horrors that stained the pages of human history. It was the field work that left him feeling exposed, though Sam had enough experience to nip those types of insecurities in the bud. He spared only a moment to pine for hearth and home before he pushed the homesickness away and forced himself to focus on the problem at hand.

Dean, who seemed unaware of Sam's angsty contemplation—which is probably the only reason he wasn't making disparaging comments about Sam going soft—had rung Cassie to inform her of the state of the apartment and let her know that he and Sam would be working late. When the conversation disintegrated into flirtatious sexual innuendo, Sam rolled his eyes and pointedly suggested they return to the hunt before someone got killed.

"Alright, Cassie, I've gotta go. We're making Captain Kill-joy over here jealous."

"You are just so, so funny bro." Sam countered as Dean snapped his cell closed. "So I checked out the play from that poster in my vision. It's a local production, some theater over by Columbia. I think we should head up the 7th ave line, see if the thing left any tracks or we run across something that… looks familiar."

"Man, you serious?"

"What?" Sam demanded.

"We're taking the subway?"

Sam shook his head incredulously, "Says the man who didn't blink at trudging a mile through the sewer after a shapeshifter."

"That's different." Sam raised his eyebrows. "I've got a rep to keep."

"Shut up."

Dean smirked and grabbed his jacket. "Don't say shut up, Sammy. What would the wife think?"

"You're an ass."

"Well, you're a bitch."

"Come _on_, Dean."

The two continued to bicker as they headed out to the car to load up. As Dean opened the trunk, Sam leafed through a book to find the passage on zombies he had marked earlier. "There are two ways we could go about this. Either we, make the corpse unusable somehow, fry the body, break the spinal cord_ or _we break the animation spell. Usually there's some mark or symbol that the necromancer uses to bind the undead spirit. Marring the mark is unlikely to be enough. I would try a counter spell and purification ritual to counter the necromancy."

"Okay, so we are going to need holy water," Dean tossed a vial to Sam. "Flare guns." He handed Sam a gun and a couple refills to Sam, who stored them deftly in his bag. "Salt gun."

As he started to pull out the shotguns, Sam protested, "Dean, we can't walk into a subway with a loaded shot gun. Are you trying to get us arrested? We're going to have to go old school on this one. Salt pellets" He grabbed a box as Dean grunted his grudging agreement. "They won't do much except slow the spirit down, anyway" he added.

"Machete?" Dean offered, concealing his own blade in a sheath that was only _fairly _suspicious-looking.

"I'm good," Sam snorted, revealing the scimitar that was his prefered weapon.

Slamming the trunk, Dean gave Sam a half smile. Sam could see the unmerciful glint shine in his brother's eyes. "Let's do this," He said. And Sam followed him down into the subway.

TBC


	6. The Woman in the Subway

Chapter 6, The Woman in the Subway

They went down the stairs, eyes quickly adjusting to the dimmer lights of the subway. Swarms of people coursed past them, making discussion difficult. They didn't need words, though. The brothers' connection was strong, forged over the years on hunt after hunt. Dean didn't have to watch Sam, could feel him there beside him, tensed for the hunt. Though it pained him a little, Dean allowed Sam to take the point position. Tracking something that Dean couldn't sense, Sam scanned the crowd, all senses attuned for some sign that they were getting closer to their target. Sam pushed them forward, seeking a path through the crowd. Dean was just as alert. His eyes took in every businessman, assessed every crazy bum for a possible threat. Dean's protective presence allowed Sam to focus, to lead. The two of them moved with a confidence which came from a lifetime of experience, their faces sober with intimate knowledge of the consequences of one wrong move. They couldn't save everyone, but they were going to damn well try.

They were anything but relaxed as the subway car shuttered forward. At each stop Sam stepped up to the dirty window to scrutinize the platform, his eyes darting to the dark corners, the stairwells where flyers fluttered in the draft of the departing cars. A moment's hesitation, then he gave a slight shake of his head. _This isn't it_. Once they got out, Dean trailing behind as Sam strode purposefully over to a yellow poster for _Pirates of Penzance_. He stared at it for a long time, but when Dean finally demanded "is this the place?" Sam shook his head again and they moved on.

When the car pulled in at 103rd Sam stepped to the window. Dean watched his brother glare at the station, feeling the frustration building behind his tired eyes. He got no indication that Sam had found anything until Sam's head jerked to the right, his eyes riveted on a woman, hunched over and walking quickly from the car several doors down. Without hesitating, Sam stepped out of the car to follow her. Dean pushed his way past the college girls who eyed him hungrily as he passed. He slipped through the doors as they started to close.

Sam caught up to the woman quickly, his long stride soon bringing him near enough to pass. As he did so, he purposefully knocked into her roughly, brushing her purse from her shoulder. She bent down frantically to pick up her belongings which had spilled from her purse. Sam was a step ahead of her, though, apologizing profusely. He caught a glimpse of her i.d. card before he gave it up, name _Erin Burke. _Up close she was younger than her initial profile had suggested. A dark rope of hair peaked out from under her hooded sweatshirt. Her green eyes were wild with fear and she turned tensely to Sam, suspecting foul play. Dean was just a step behind, though, picking up Sam's lead.

"Hey man," He barked. "Watch where you're going, you friggin' jerk."

"It was an accident," Sam responded defensively. Dean almost laughed at the affected whine in his tone.

He turned his attention to the woman. "Are you alright?" He asked, offering her a hand up and flashing his trademark smile, still irresistible after all these years. "My brother's a lawyer." Dean continued, enjoying the irony. He shot Sam a dark look. "You should sue this creep for personal injury."

"I'm fine," She replied, but refused his help and scrambled upright unassisted. She was favoring her right side, though, revealing injuries that neither of the brothers had picked up on before. Sam immediately felt guilty of jostling her already fragile frame. Dean seemed confused by the coldness in her response, but a sharp look from Sam had him trying again.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked. She glared at him, but as she did she faltered, swaying from side to side. Dean's hands were immediately there to steady her. "Take it easy, okay. You're bleeding." His ministrations revealed a large gash in Erin's left side.

"Stay the hell away from me," She growled through gritted teeth.

"We're just here to help," Sam responded, dropping the charade as he sensed the situation becoming more and more critical.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked, suspicion still high.

"I'm Dean and the klutz is my brother, Sam." Dean supplied, but somehow this didn't seem to calm the woman's fears.

"What do you want?" She asked weakly, practically unable to stand without leaning heavily on Dean.

"For now we just want to talk," Dean assured her. "Maybe we better look for a somewhere to sit down." They were starting to get funny looks from the crowd.

Erin nodded weakly and Sam led the way to a bench that was out of the major flow of pedestrian traffic. His eyes were riveted on the far wall, standing watch while Dean began to pump their new acquaintance for information.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" He asked, showing her the sketch of the amulet that Sam had made earlier.

Erin grew even more agitated at the sight of the sketch, her hands clutching it convulsively. "Where did you get this?" She demanded, looking at the brothers suspiciously.

Dean hesitated slightly before answering, "My brother had a vision." He began, deciding to use their knowledge as a bargaining chip to bring the woman to the table.

Erin paused, letting this sink in. Her penetrating eyes turned to search Sam's face. "It's coming," She said and saw the confirmation in Sam's eyes before shrinking back. "You have to get out of here. It's not safe. It'll rip you apart."

"Sweetheart, please." Dean said with a cocky grin, "I'd like to see it try."

TBC

Author's Note: Seriously, y'all, review!


	7. Dark Magic

Chapter 7, Dark Magic

Erin lapsed into a labored silence, her eyes wide with fear. She refused to answer Dean's questions, only shaking her head when he tried to ask about the amulet or the creature that stalked her. Sam continued to watch the shadows, knowing without a doubt that whatever it was that he had seen was still out there, still coming for the deathly pale girl and her strange talisman.

Dean soon picked up on his brother's foreboding and readied himself for the fight. He drew himself up, taking a relaxed but defensive stance in front of Erin. He felt exposed, though there was a lull in the stream of pedestrians and the stragglers who did remained paid the hunters no mind. Still, this wasn't the ideal battle grounds for fighting the undead. There were too many people around— innocents who could be hurt, witnesses who could cause trouble. And Dean liked to be in control, the one behind the wheel. There were too many unknowns here and it made him uneasy.

Sam saw it first and he struggled to contain the natural horror inspired by the sight of the decomposing corpse. Nothing he hadn't seen before, except that this corpse was staggering forward, animated by dark magic. Sam felt pity for the spirit, driven mad with rage at being sealed in its own decaying body, forced to obey its cruel master. Bile rose in his throat as his nose caught the scent of death that radiated from the body along with an unnatural heat.

"Dean," he cautioned unnecessarily. His brother was already aware of the approaching zombie. Sam licked his lips nervously, but moved forward, ready to begin the attack but unsure of the protocol for drawing a scimitar in public areas. Probably should have figured that out before now, he reprimanded himself while drawing the glinting weapon.

Dean heard Erin gasp at the sight of the monster. "Stay put," he growled as he drew the flare gun and waited for the creature to come into range. He kept the girl behind him, shielding her with his body. The creature continued to advance. Erin struggled upright behind him, muttering something unrecognizable beneath her breath. Dean felt his ears pop as a surge of energy broke around them. Erin's voice then rang out, causing the brothers to glance at her sharply. While she was still pale from lost blood, she held the amulet in her hand and was focusing energy through the center stone. A surreal light pulsated across the subway station, seeming to hold the instant in time. Nobody moved until the zombie, slowed only momentarily, staggered forward again.

Dean and Sam also found themselves freed from the effects of the spell. Sam moved to meet it, bringing his weapon up. The zombie blocked the first blow with his arm, Sam's blade leaving a sickening gash. Then Sam wrenched the weapon free while ducking the counterattack. Successfully avoiding the zombie's right fist, Sam approached again. As he did his eyes sought out the necromancer's seal, emblazoned on the zombie's neck. The mark writhed in the pulsating light.

Dean stepped forward to assist, firing a flare directly into the zombie's chest. The thing roared in frustration, but the flesh did not catch. _Damn, should have brought some lighter fluid. _Thankfully, Sam's second baptism attempt was dead on. As the holy water spattered onto the mark of the necromancer, the body shuttered. Undoubtedly the spirit within felt the seal weaken and fought to free itself.

Erin suddenly cried out in pain, causing Dean to reach out to steady her. Her body shuttered violently and she collapsed. Their world imploded slightly as the spell broke. They were again subject to the glare of the florescent lights. Dean swore as they were again exposed to the outside world.

Knowing they didn't have much time, Sam began the purification ritual while Dean fired another flare into the zombie's chest. The brothers watched as the undead spirit fought its way free of the body. It rose like a fiery bird and screeched one last angry cry before disappearing. The bloodied, broken, but thankfully vacant, corpse was now oozing unpleasantly at their feet.

People passed them on either side, seeming to shake themselves out to a stupor. They passed by, seeming unaware of what had just transpired. _Which was what exactly? _Sam wondered, looking at the unconscious stranger beside them. "I don't know about you," He grunted, quickly storing the bloodied scimitar, "but I for one would like some answers."

"I'm with you, little brother," Dean agreed. "But we better get out of here before someone takes an interest in your handiwork."

"I didn't do that!" Sam responded indignantly, gesturing to the truly disgusting body.

"Well, we're going to figure out who did." Dean said, his voice now serious. Covering his mouth so that he wouldn't gag, he bent over the body, looking for some kind of identification. The necromancer seal, which had darkened when it broke, was unique for each necromancer. Sam quickly sketched the symbol as Dean searched the pockets for some clue as to who the man had once been.

When they were through, Dean gathered Erin's inert body in his arms and they quickly retreated to the surface. Sam was afraid they would be stopped as they made a truly suspicious pair, but no one challenged them as they fled the scene. The sun had set long ago but the streets were still pretty crowded. They knew it was too dangerous to meet up with Cassie and Ellie until they had some idea what the hell they were dealing with. Sam hailed a cab, ignoring Dean's grousing about public transportation and they made their way back to the apartment they had left earlier that day.

TBC

Author's Note: What do ya think? Please review.


	8. Connections

Chapter 8, Connections

"Winchester residence." Grace answered the phone, momentarily taking Sam's breath away. _God, he missed her_.

"Grace, it's me," he said.

"Thank God. I was starting to worry." There was warm relief in her voice. Sam smiled as he imagined her keeping the phone to her ear with one shoulder while folding laundry with the other.

"Sorry, we're still sorting things out here," Sam said tiredly. He glanced at Erin through the doorway to the patched up remains of Cassie's bedroom. She had come to during the cab ride but hadn't been coherent enough offer any kind of explanation. Though she was asleep now, her face was pale and she slept kind of fitfully. Dean and Sam had decided to take cover for the darkest and most dangerous hours of the night while the girl recuperated. Sam, aware that Dean was worried about Cassie and Ellie, was taking the first shift while Dean went to check up on his girls. He had taken the opportunity to put a call through to Grace.

So they talked for a bit about the kids and the house, then Sam asked Grace to do them a favor and do some checking about the amulet for him. The brothers were still wracking their brains to figure out why the necromancer was after Cassie. Sam couldn't think of any connection between the stranger witch they had taken up with and his _relatively_ normal niece and her mother. Not knowing made Sam feel helpless and he wanted to make progress on this thing before anyone else got hurt.

"Okay, buddy, but you _owe_ me," Grace agreed with a mock growl.

"I promise, I'll cook for a week," Sam responded with a laugh.

"Haven't I suffered enough!" Grace snorted.

"Too cruel, lady." Grace missed his puppy dog eyes as his tone went all forlorn on her.

"Okay, well, you can take me out to dinner _and _buy me flowers. I think we can call that even."

"How magnanimous."

"You with your big words, are you trying to turn me on?"

"What, the five-year-old vocabulary not intellectually stimulating enough for you?"

Grace promised to kiss the boys for him and Sam promised to be careful and find some time to rest and they flirted a little more before Sam wrenched himself back to the unconscious witch and the supernatural he was hunting

As he set his mind to the problem, let it brood over the seemingly unconnected pieces to this puzzle, Sam put himself to work fixing up the place. Dean had already patched up the doorjam and the bedroom had been put in relatively good order. The rest of the apartment definitely needed a once over, though. Hell, maybe it would uncover something, Sam thought as he picked up a broom. He and his brother weren't amatures, but there might be something they had missed.

When Sam was half finished with the main living quarters and had cleaned up all the broken glass in the kitchen, he got a call from his brother.

"Hey Dean, can't say I was expecting to hear back from you again tonight."

"Yeah, well, we've had a couple of unexpected visitors." Dean's voice was taunt and Sam knew that something big had gone down without him.

"What the hell?"

"Yeah, I know. We had two ugly ass zombies show up. Dude, this is getting pretty personal."

"Are you okay?"

"Hell, yeah, we're fine. But we're headed over, so you better shut down that raging party I know you were planning."

"Grow up."

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please Review!


	9. Prior Claim

Chapter 9, Prior Claim

As promised, Dean arrived fifteen minutes later, Ellie clinging sleepily to his shoulder with Cassie looking tired and pissed just a few steps behind. Her demeanor did not brighten when she saw the apartment. Her sharp eyes took in the damage, then wandered possessively to the stranger asleep in her bedroom.

"What the _hell _is she doing here," Cassie hissed, glaring at Dean. She and Dean were obviously been going through one of their off again phases. It was a game that Sam had never understood, one that he knew better than to get involved in.

"Sam, would you?" Dean motioned for his younger brother to take Ellie's clingy form off his hands. Sam received his niece expertly, shooting his brother a questioning look. Dean shrugged in irritation, which Sam took as his cue to leave. Sam closed the door on the argument that quickly ensued as he left the room.

Ellie's room was a little worse for wear, but Sam had managed to put things back in order. Tinkerbell was the theme of the day, probably since Ellie had seen the real deal last summer. Dean and Sam had taken the kids to a cabin in northern California and had recognized the signs of a fairy nest on one of the hills beyond the house. The brothers had taken Ellie and John to witness the pixies' comings and goings. Sam smiled as he remembered the wonder that had played across the kids' faces. It was one of the rare times that the family secrets brought joy rather than the fear that was now playing across his nieces face. He felt it in the tightening of her grip around his neck as he went to deposit her on the bed.

"Uncle Sam?" Sam smiled tenderly as he pulled her close, taking a seat on the child's bed.

"What is it, honey?" Sam's voice was gentle and his touch seemed to reassure Ellie.

"Is the bad thing coming?" She whispered, brown eyes wide.

Sam let out a breath, feeling the weight of the truth heavy on his shoulders. Why was it their family had been chosen to bare this burden? "I don't know, sweetheart, but your dad and I are here and I promise that we won't let anything happen to you."

Ellie nodded trustingly, but the fear was not completely dispelled. "Why did it wreck our house?" she asked, hurt.

Sam gathered her in his spacious arms. "I don't know," he responded again.

"Don't you know _anything?_" Ellie demanded, with a hint of exasperation that brought a smile to Sam's lips.

"I know that _you_ should be in bed," Sam said pointedly, plopping Ellie onto the comforter and tickling her as he arranged the blankets and tucked her in.

Ellie giggled and accepted the kiss on her forehead as her due. As Sam searched for the box of rock salt, she regarded him with sleepy eyes.

"Are mommy and daddy fighting?" She asked as Sam completed the protective ring.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, baby." Sam said quietly, stepping carefully over the white line to gently smooth her unruly curls. "Just try and get some sleep, okay?"

"Is daddy going to leave again?" She asked, eyes filling with exhausted tears.

"Hey," Sam said tenderly, bending to kiss her forehead again. "Your daddy loves you…and he always comes back, right?"

Ellie nodded and quickly wiped away the tear that had fallen hot down her cheek.

"Goodnight, rosebud," Sam said, using his own special nickname for his niece.

"G'night, Uncle Sammy."

Sam paused as he watched Ellie's breath steady and her eyes close. He whispered a powerful benediction, one that he had learned from Pastor Jim long ago, asking God for her safety. Then he turned on the nightlight, smiling at the soft blue light the tinkerbell lamp cast on the child's bedroom, and gently slipped through the doorway.

Dean and Cassie were still at each other's throats.

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Cassie demanded angrily.

"No, of _course _not," Dean hissed back, "All I am _saying_ is that this shouldn't have happened. I mean, for God's sake, Cassie."

"What Dean? How the _fuck _was I supposed to know?"

"I—"

"YOU weren't here," Cassie interrupted. "You're never fucking here, Dean."

"What I am doing is _important_, it saves _lives, _Cassie." Dean responded with his typical defensive.

"What about your _daughter, _Dean? What about _her _life? You're _missing _it!"

Dean's face was dark. He turned away in silent rage. Cassie's words had stung, in part because they were so close to the truth. Sam moved in, a desire to protect his brother placing him between the dueling parties. "Come on, guys," He said desperately. "This isn't solving anything."

When there was no response from Dean, Sam barked "Come _on_, Dean. We have to focus here."

Dean sniffed angrily and nodded tersely. "Well," he said, "I think we know what they're after."

"What?" Sam asked, oblivious.

"Me." Cassie said, her voice flat.

"What? Why?"

"Because of this," Cassie said, pulling the hair off her neck and revealing a dark design.

"Is it a tattoo?" Sam asked uncertainly, coming closer to examine it.

"No," Dean answered, "Cassie's been claimed." He looked at her like she was dirty, then turned away.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Love the reviews!


	10. This Family

Chapter 10, This Family

"Okay, you two, just cool it," Sam said, hoping they wouldn't notice that he was using his Dad voice. He sat down to get a closer look at the mark on Cassie's neck.

"Do you have any idea _who_ did this?" he asked her. In order for the Necromancer to place his mark on Cassie's neck, the two would have to be in fairly intimate contact (thus Dean looking half murderous over there. Heads were definitely gonna roll tonight).

Cassie's eyes narrowed, "what do you mean who did _it_? I don't even know what _it _is? Dean saw it and went completely berserk on me." Cassie jerked away from Sam's attentions and fixed him with an expectant glare.

Sam gave Dean an annoyed look which seemed to further piss the man off. Swallowing, he tried to broach the issue as delicately as possible. "Cassie. I think Dean's _concern_ is that--"

"Who did you _fuck_, Cassie?" Dean cut in crudely, wanting to see Cassie's eyes widen with hurt. He wasn't disappointed.

"What?" Cassie said, mouth dropping open. Before Sam could insert his awkward deflating statement, she was on her feet, pacing and spitting mad. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" She flung at Dean. "You are such a hypocrite, you know that? This from the man who is probably only about 20 percent sure that Ellie is his only offspring! It's not like you didn't share your bed with a girl in each state on the way 'home' to me!"

"YOU put our daughter in danger!" Dean retaliated.

"ENOUGH!" Sam cut in, letting his own anger show. "You two can deal with your issues later. Right now we have a job to do." Cassie and Dean glared at each other but had the graciousness to nod with affected contrition. It was true that Sam had sacrificed a lot to come out to meet them.

"THANK you," Sam said in the following silence. "Cassie, we need to know who did this. Now, the mark cannot be placed against your will," he shot Dean quelling stare, "though it can be coerced. Just tell us what happened, so we can fix this."

"I don't REMEMBER what happened" Cassie bit out in exasperation. God, she had never felt so violated.

Dean felt his heart thump at Cassie's stricken look, but he didn't let the pang get further than his eyes. He stood there, rigid and icy. _How had he thought this might work? _He wasn't like Sam. He didn't do very well with these types of situations. And things were happening so fast. And there was so much at stake. _Dammit _he swore to himself.

Sam, thankfully, _was_ like Sam or at least had some Sam-like qualities. He managed to draw Cassie out, being "sensitive" or whatever. "Come on, Cassie, start from the beginning," Sam persuaded gently. Dean pursed his lips.

Cassie drew a shaky breath. "Two nights ago, I went out with a couple girlfriends and..." she glanced nervously at Dean. "I danced with this _guy_." She shook her head. "Had a couple drinks." _God_, this was painful. "_Apparently_, I went home with the guy. But I don't remember anything!"

"What _do_ you remember," Sam pressed. Dean's face remained hard.

"I woke up here," she said, looking down at her hands. "I didn't think that... I thought... I thought maybe he had put something in my drink..."

"AND you didn't CALL me!" Dean yelled, breaking into a sweat. That this could have happened at all...

"Yeah, 'cause you were _sure_ to be so understanding," Cassie snipped back. "GOD, Dean..."

"You're NOT helping." Sam said, reinforcing the message by glaring at his brother.

"Fine. I'm gonna check on Ellie." It was an obvious emotional retreat. He couldn't really deal with this crap.

Cassie shot Sam a look that betrayed just how uncomfortable this was getting. She folded her hands over her chest, doing her best to get a little distance on this. When she spoke, her voice was measured but tight. "What _exactly_ does this mean?"

Sam swallowed. It was obvious that the situation was seriously fucked. "The mark is transfered through the exchange of bodily fluids, like the with vampires, though in necromancy, well, usually its through intercourse."

Cassie winced. Had she been raped? Nothing was worse than this feeling, not knowing. Two hot tears spilled out through her closed eyes and Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Cassie jerked away, eyes flying open and signaling silently that Sam should continue.

Sam did and the seriousness of his words settled ominously about them. "The mark gives the necromancer certain powers over the person he claims. He _will_ be able to track you, knows where you are. He may be able to coerce you, though probably not from great distances. Um... in death, the body is given over wholly and becomes an undead servant."

"Oh." Cassie said weakly. She tried to remember to breathe. Suddenly she surged to her feet, "I have to _go_ then... Ellie..."

"Cassie, I don't think that's..."

"You're not going anywhere," Dean interrupted, reappearing at the doorway. He stepped towards Cassie. "I'm not going to let anything happen to. To_ either_ of you."

Sam smiled in relief. He'd need his brother in this fight. "God, this _family_," he laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah well," Dean said simply, a sardonic smile playing at his lips. Cassie tried to return his smile. Light hands one her neck and a couple of murmured apologies did wonders in that regard. Sam felt a pang of homesickness as he averted his eyes.

"So, geek boy," Dean said, slinging a comforting arm around Cassie's shoulder. Seemed there were a few conflicting claims there.

Sam's head came back up, glare nowhere near convincing. "That's geek man, to you," he said with a smile.

"How do we break the seal?" Dean said, getting serious.

"That's the interesting thing..." Dean and Cassie glared. Sam retracted. "That's the difficult thing... It's not like a demonic seal," he unconsciously fingered the scar from all those years ago when Bobby had released the demon within him by putting a glowing poker to his arm. "You can't just physically corrupt the mark. It's protected by strong magic."

"Maybe I can help with that," said Erin, appearing in the doorway.

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Author's Note: Okay, y'all. Sorry for abandoning you with this story. I know where it's going, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it...


	11. Know Thy Enemy

Chapter 11, Know Thy Enemy

Erin stood with unnatural straightness, far more refreshed than could be attributed to her brief rest. Both Sam and Dean immediately suspected some supernatural cause, which made Dean decidedly nervous. Despite the notable exceptions he made for Sam and Missouri and some friends who had proven themselves trustworthy, Dean still tended to see the supernatural as something to be hunted, rather than befriended. He put himself protectively between Cassie and the witch.

Cassie was sitting straight, panic carefully masked. But Dean felt the tautness of her shoulders and knew that she was terrified, which was saying a lot. Cassie didn't scare easy.

"Who are you?" Cassie demanded softly.

Erin didn't answer directly."He's been dreaming about you," she said cryptically, radiating power so intense Sam wondered how he had missed it before.

"Are you one of us?" Sam asked, referring to his generation of chosen ones.

Erin fixed dark eyes on Sam, like Grace did when she was trying to get a read on him. Sam swallowed nervously, but held her gaze.

"I'm not one of anything," she responded after a momentary pause. "I've been alone for so long…" she trailed off, but seemed to find herself again. "He marked me, like he did you, Cassie. But as a child, before I could protect myself. He used me and my… abilities… to do terrible things. But I finally fought my way free of him. I thought… I thought I was safe."

She shivered and Winchesters were silent. With all their experience with Nasty, they still couldn't imagine just how horrible that must have been.

"But why does he want me?" Cassie demanded.

"He doesn't want you at all. Even now that he has you. He wants your daughter."

"But why?" Cassie said desperately, shaking as Dean surged to his feet, pacing angrily.

"Because she's like me," Erin said quietly. "She will be… is… very powerful."

"Oh good, she inherited the freak gene," Dean spit out, glaring at Sam as if it were his fault. After all that he had lost, Dean was fiercely protective of his family. There were some things, though, he couldn't protect them from.

"Dean," Sam protested. Dean couldn't meet his gaze and dropped his eyes. "We are going to keep her safe, Dean," the younger brother said, voice quiet and earnest.

Dean nodded once, silencing the father in him. He became the calm hunter his daddy had trained him to be.

"He's gathering his forces," Erin said. "I can sense when they are near."

"You know where he is?" Sam pushed.

Erin nodded, "Always."

"Can you help us?" Cassie asked, made confused and unsure by the revelations.

Erin looked at her with too much empathy. "There is a price be free of him which only you can pay, but I'll help you in any way that I can."

Cassie did not look reassured. "We need to get Ellie out of here. I... we're leading him here!"

"He cannot sense me," Erin said cooly, "and I can shield you too."

"We need to know what he's capable of," Sam started, pulling out his journal and switching on his computer. He pulled up his file on necromancy and flipped to a clean page. His professionalism seemed to have a calming effect on the party.

Erin started to fill him in. "He is known as Michael Yearling, owner of the Jupiter Conglomerate. He's a very powerful man..."

Cassie, who had been stiff and wide-eyed at Erin's story, now got up, moving with Dean to the area in front of the question and speaking softly so that the others could not hear. "Dean, what are we going to do?" He was the only one she trusted completely.

"Listen, Everything's going to be fine. You need to get some rest, okay?"

Cassie closed her eyes briefly in physical and emotional fatigue. Dean saw it and put his hands on her thing shoulders. "I'm gonna be right here. Sam and I got this. Go get some sleep." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and she melted into his arms. "Shh. Shh. Shh," he crooned, rubbing the back of her neck. He brushed the mark and she shivered, clinging to him.

Cassie's ironic smile was back as she finally pulled away. "You're such a Dad," she teased, wiping away her tears.

Dean smiled in return. "And you're a sexy momma," he said, kissing her a little less chastely.

Cassie felt better when she finally pulled away, moving back to her bedroom and running a brush over her teeth. Alone in her room, though, she shivered, unable to avoid the damaged window or the unholy stain which marred that room and even her own body. After a pause, she crossed the hall to Ellie's room.

Cassie hadn't exactly planned on kids. Her unwed motherhood had made her an outcast in the conservative Missouri town and her traditional values and quaint accent alienated her in the big city. She and Ellie had been alone for a long time. The little girl made her swell in a city that made her fell small.

The sight of her daughter's dark, unruly curls spread over the light blue pillowcase, illuminated by the twinkling night light filled her both with love and dread. Ellie was everything she had. Dean Winchester may be the love her life, the champion she never knew she wanted or needed until she had him, as much as any women could "have" a man like that. But Ellie was her life and she couldn't loose that little girl.

Kicking off her shoes, she shed her professional jacket. She popped the bras she barely needed, slipping into the sweats she had grabbed from her room. There was enough room for both the five year old and her thin mother in the twin bed, so Cassie slipped in under the overs, wrapping her arms around Ellie's soft warmth and breathing in deep.

"Momma?" Ellie said, sleepily, tuning toward her.

"Hey baby," Cassie whispered in her ear, kissing her head and letting their heartbeats synchronize.


End file.
